White Rabbit
by lm2nbb
Summary: It's been some time after his 3 year "vacation" and Sherlock Holmes is now back in the saddle. After coming back from being dead, then being the best man at a wedding to nearly being sent out of the country Sherlock has kept himself busy. But upon receiving messages from an unknown sender Sherlock for once is unsure of where this new case will lead him or what will happen.
1. Chapter 1:Text

I do not own BBC Sherlock or the Characters or the Alice reference. Thank you But i do own the story idea.

(spoils for those who have yet to see any Sherlock seasons or the third for that matter)

* * *

><p>Chapter 1:<p>

Text

-At the home of Mycroft Holmes-

Sitting in his home office, Mycroft Holmes stared lazily at his laptop while typing away at the keys.

The low buzzing sound of his phone on his desk pulled him away from his work looking at it he noticed a number that he did not recognize humming to himself, he picked it up and unlocked it to see what the message was.

"_You're late_"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at this "late? …Late for what?" he pondered as the next message appeared.

"_Late for a very important date_"

"_Mycroft Holmes_"

He was now very perplexed. Who was this person? How did they get his number? What the bloody hell were they going on about? However, he did not get the answer that he wanted, instead he got another message that caused him, Mycroft Holmes to become stressed and slightly concerned.

"_White Rabbit_."

(*****)

The sound of a violin being played filled the flat of 221b as a solemn man stared into the space before him. Sighing, he soon began to pluck at the strings of the musical instrument causing a few sour sounds, o resonate from it before a familiar figure stepped through the door.

"Ah Sherlock I thought I heard foul notes, long day again?" asked the person as they took a seat across from the consulting detective.

He grunted, "You have no earthly idea John; No idea what it is like to have your mind running like an out of control train going faster than the speed of sound headed on a collision course to god knows where." John sighed. He hated to see his friends like this; he also hated the mood he was in. It always spelled trouble for anyone including him.

"Now Sherlock don't be solemn I'm sure you have got something to do. Like for instance that, case about the woman whose husband went missing or maybe that man's son who claims his father's family rifle got stolen." Pointed out John as he got up to make them both some tea.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed before opening his mouth. "I have already solved both cases without even having to leave the flat." At this, John raised his eyebrows he knew that Sherlock was good but John was certain that these cases were just what Sherlock needed but apparently, he was wrong.

"I know I'm going to regret this Sherlock but how did you manage to solve both cases without leaving the flat?" asked John curiously, as he sat down placing a cup of tea in front of Sherlock while he drank his.

"It's quite simple really they were lovers of course," stated Sherlock looking bored

"Who were?" asked John as he sipped his tea

"The woman's husband and the man's son John it was quite obvious."

Sherlock looked to his friend who seemed confused as if he just spoke some odd language that he did not know but he was use to that and so he sighed briefly before speaking again.

"It was obvious for the fact that both clients appeared within a time span of 1 hour of each other making it so that the one lover the man's son could see the sorrowful wife leave that flat most likely to making himself feel accomplished in some form or another. Only to then lie about his father's rifle being stolen. Also, its most likely the son hates his father due to the cuts on his arm and wrist as he tried to hide them the whole time self-inflicted years of abuse no doubt. No mother either father seemed to be very resentful and depressed obviously she either died giving birth or shortly after only to find out years later that his son is a homosexual. I doubt that went over well." When Sherlock finished there was only silence in the room until John spoke up.

"And the rifle?"

"Ah yes it was sold to a pawn shop for quite a sum of money." Commented Sherlock, as he now was up putting his violin away.

"You know this how?" asked John as he watched the man from across the room.

"The son had a very expensive watch on his wrist that seemed to be very important to him. No doubt, it was bought shortly after his lover the woman's husband sold the gun." Turning around Sherlock grimaced a smile briefly before returning to his former seldom mood again.

John nodded his head sighing slightly. He knew better then to have asked in the first place but who was he to deny Sherlock the chance to gloat a bit about his accomplishment even if he did do it a lot.

"So that is it then? The lovers get away and everyone else?"

"Moves on John" stated Sherlock as he sat back down his hands in the same triangular position that they are normally in. John only nodded slightly before Mrs. Hudson walked into the room.

"Sherlock your brother is here" she motioned behind her as Mycroft waltzed in, looking as he always has if more pale then before. Sherlock just looked at his brother studying his features making a few notes here and there all while John greeted the man giving a short but brief head nod.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson" thanked Sherlock as she turned to leave heading back down stairs to her flat. For a while, nothing was said just eerie silence that filled the room making it uncomfortable if not uneasy for anyone not use to it but thankfully those in the room seemed to be well off.

"Well now Sherlock you don't seem-"

"Cut the act Mycroft why are you here? The only time you ever show up is when it's either a crisis of the highest caliber or you can't seem to do something on your own." Sherlock smiled smugly at his older brother causing Mycroft to sigh at this little brother's childishness.

"I see want to get down to business before even hearing the real reason?" questioned Mycroft as he sat down right across from Sherlock and John. Sherlock looked quizzically at Mycroft unsure of what he meant by that.

"What do you mean "the real reason" it is quite obvious why you're here." Commented Sherlock as he studied his brother trying to read him in order to understand what he was getting at.

At this Mycroft chuckled truly amused by his little brother and his ways.

"Oh no my dear Sherlock I'm not here because of some international crisis or because I "can't do anything" he cocked an eyebrow at the last part.

"Then why are you here?" Sherlock almost growled out his question mainly because he was getting frustrated having Mycroft in the room.

"Well since you asked to nicely." Mycroft then pulled out his phone handing it over to Sherlock who snatched it out if his hands. Unlocking the phone, he looks at the messages.

"I got them late last night I'm not sure who sent them or why but I do know that the last message will leave you as it did me."

Scrolling down Sherlock found the messages and reading them to himself before looking up at Mycroft giving him a questioning glance.

"Yes I know confounding isn't it?" he asked

"What's confounding?" asked John now speaking for the first time since the conversation had started.

"The messages "_You're late. Late for a very important date. Mycroft Holmes_" I wasn't quite sure myself until I read the last message that I'm sure your still trying to understand am I right Sherlock?" the smugness was strong now as Mycroft gave his little brother a coy look.

"And what did the last message say?" John questioned as he could feel the tension in the room.

"White Rabbit" spoke Sherlock before Mycroft could open his mouth.

"White Rabbit? What on earth does that mean?"

"It means my dear fellow that Alice is not dead and she merely fell down the rabbit hole." Commented Mycroft as he looked to Sherlock hoping to get something out of his now poker faced sibling. Sadly, though he sat there staring before tossing the phone back to Mycroft and getting up.

"I know it hurts you to speak of this Sherlock it hurts me as well believe me but we cannot just let this go there is no telling where it could lead."

"I can tell you where it will exactly lead Mycroft down a path of no return and much sorrow now then if you are done here please show yourself out." Said Sherlock as he motioned to the doorway. Mycroft sighed grapping is trusty umbrella before heading to the door only to stop and turn around.

"If I got a message then you will too remember that and then you will have no choice" and with those words he walked down the stairwell and out the front door his footsteps echoing the whole way.

"So Sherlock care to explain what this "White Rabbit" thing is and who "Alice" is?" asked John as he stared at his friend who was now gloomier then before and glaring out the window. A long period of quite came between them not one uttered a work nor moved an inch until Sherlock's phone decide to break it.

With quick movements, Sherlock went over and scooped up his phone turning it on and unlocking it to find that he had a new message.

"Well? Whose it from Sherlock?" asked John as he gazed up at the detective whose face seemed to grow slightly pale from its normal color.

"Sherlock?" asked John getting worried he stood up and walked over to him. "What is it? Everything alright?"

"No john everything is not alright." Muttered Sherlock, showing his phone to the good doctor. Who then read the messages aloud.

"_Caterpillar you're late. Very late indeed._"

"_Alice_"


	2. Chapter 2: Drink me

I do not own BBC Sherlock or the Characters or the Alice reference. Thank you But i do own the story idea.

(spoils for those who have yet to see any Sherlock seasons or the third for that matter)

* * *

><p>Chapter: Two<p>

Drink me

Sherlock sat staring out the cab window as the thought of the messages he had received ran through his mind like a mouse on a wheel going round and round never seeming to stop.

_(****)_

_ "This must be some kind of joke, right? I mean Mycroft could be the one doing it." John was at a loss of words for his friend, unable to fathom any proper conclusion other than Mycroft must be involved. How else you he have gotten the message that quickly? _

_"No, John," murmured Sherlock as he went and got his coat, wrapping it around him then tying his scarf around his neck. "Mycroft has zero part in this. The look on his face from before was genuine; I just didn't want to believe him."_

_"So what? Are we just going to go and find this person? Hell, we do not even know who this person is even supposed to be, Sherlock! Alice could be some kind of ruse meant to lead us off the correct path."_

_"It is a ruse, John. Or to be more accurate, an alias; meant to give a sign, not to lead us away. Besides, there is only one person I can think of that would use that name." _

_"Who, Sherlock?"_

_"Her." With that one word, he was out the door with John fast at his heels wondering just who 'her' was._

(****)

Sitting in the cab the silence between the two men had grown almost to the point where the other could no longer stand it.

"So…who is this 'her'? I mean it's someone you know obviously and it is also someone who Mycroft knows. So, who is she?" asked John as the cab came to a stop.

Sherlock was silent as he stepped out of the cab and headed up the steps of Scotland Yard with John close at his heels. Heading up on the elevator, they went to the floor where Inspector Greg Lestrade would be in his office with piles of paper work littering his desk, but Sherlock did not care.

Waltzing into the office, Sherlock saw that he had been right on the money. Mounds of paper work sat upon the desk looking as though they might topple over at any moment from the slightest movement; there in the middle of it all was a weary Inspector Lestrade.

Lestrade looked up from the document that he was reading to see the two men walk into the room, Sherlock taking one of the seats across from the desk and John taking the other.

"I didn't call you here Sherlock," stated Lestrade as he looked between the two men with a questioning glance.

"No you did not," replied Sherlock in a nonchalant way.

"Then why are you here? Unless it has something to do with a case of some kind, I don't know how I can help you," commented Lestrade, as he looked back down at the paper in his hand before signing it quickly and grabbing another one.

Sherlock rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone, opening it up and tossing it over on his desk.

"That number. Can you track it?"

Lestrade picked up the phone and looked at it.

"What the hell kind of messages are these Sherlock?" he asked looking bewildered.

"Those are unimportant to you and you should not take any real note of them. Now, answer me. Can. You. Track. It." Sherlock was growing impatient now every second he wasted here was another one gone and moment he would lose.

Lestrade looked at Sherlock for what could have seemed like the longest time obviously thinking which was irritating the consulting detective in front of him. Normally he would have questioned Sherlock's reasons for such requests but at this time, he felt that for once, it was not wise to press the subject something about the feel in the room and the look in the man's eyes told him so.

"Well?" Sherlock looked at Lestrade cocking an eyebrow as if sending him a telepathic message.

"Yea I believe we can. Just let me get ahold of the lab and computer tech-"

"No time, do it here on yours"

"But Sherlock it's not that simple nor do I have the access to do so"

This information frustrated the detective. He needed the location of the person's phone now! Sadly, he would have to wait on a computer tech person in order to get the information he wanted.

The tech was slow and took minutes that, to Sherlock, felt like hours. Once they had finally finished, Lestrade handed Sherlock the information which he quickly snatched.

"I'm not sure what you're going to get out of this Sherlock. I mean look at the location. There is nobody there. It's abandoned, empty, desolate. Are your sure that is isn't some kind of weird trap?" asked Lestrade as he watched the consulting detective walk over to the elevator.

"Sherlock are you listing to me?"

"No Lestrade. Come along, John." Sherlock motioned for John to follow him.

(****)

Back in the cab, Sherlock gave the driver directions and he quickly took off.

"Where are we going Sherlock?" asked John as he looked out the window "Are you even going to tell me, or are you still going to leave me here in the dark."

Sherlock sat in contemplation. The silence was the loudest noise in the car for what seemed like an eternity.

"Alice is a girl."

"I'm sorry?" asked John as he looked to his friend.

"Alice," Sherlock paused, "is a girl."

"Well I figured that from the name Sherlock. What I was asking is who is she? What purpose dose she serve here, if any?" John questioned, not expecting a straight answer.

"She was—a family friend."

"A 'family friend'? I mean it's not that I don't believe you it's just –"

"I know what you mean, John. And before you continue your embarrassing ramblings, yes. She was a strong girl. After all, she would have to deal with me and my brother."

"Ok," was all John could think to respond.

A couple of minutes went by before John got the courage to ask the next question.

"Did…did something happen to her Sherlock?"

Sherlock was silent; obviously in another world as he gazed out the window. John felt that perhaps he had crossed a line there. It was clear to him now that this was a sensitive subject and he would need to be more considerate of his friend's feelings.

The ride remained until they came to a stop. Getting out, the two men stared at the decrepit building looming before them.

"John tell the cab to wait. We won't be long," ordered Sherlock as he walked up to the broken door to study it. John nodded his head before turning to speak with the cab driver.

John walked over to Sherlock look at him then at the door.

"Sooo what's here exactly? Besides a broken down building and a damaged door," John questioned.

"Evidence, John" replied Sherlock, as he pushed the door causing it to slowly open up to them.

"Evidence? What do you mean Evidence, Sherlock? There is nothing here besides maybe mold and a nice family of rats."

"Oh please, John. It's obvious that the door has been forced open; more than likely by a crowbar judging by the marks on the wood, which would imply that someone really wanted in here."

"Well of course, Sherlock, maybe a homeless person somehow obtained a crowbar and used it to get in here." John stated his logic matter-of-factly.

"Doubtful, since this area is not known to have any homeless population. It is scheduled for demolition next week. No point for someone to make home here," Sherlock stated with a roll of his eyes.

"Ok then who else would want access to this place if they weren't in need of shelter?" John asked, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

Sherlock stopped to take note of a bright yellow arrow on the wall pointing to the left.

"A person who wants to be found."

The two men followed the arrows at each turn until it became tiresome.

"Sherlock," John yawned as they rounded another turn. "I don't think we are getting anywhere here. Maybe the arrows where placed her by the demolishing team so that way they know where to go."

When john did not get a reply from his friend, he looked to see the man was not even playing attention but instead looking at a door that stood out from the rest of the old rotting decor. Walking up beside him, he looked at it before speaking up.

"This door is different from the rest. In fact, it looks brand new almost as if someone was expecting us to come here."

Sherlock just stared at the door, studying it trying to find a clue or a default in it. True the door was new most likely recent purchase judging by the shine and the smell it still smelled of that fresh oak that is found it home improvement stores. The door of course had the only knob left in the building and it was shiny as well—glinting silver that showed both men's reflections. But something else was off about the door. Sherlock couldn't put his finger on it, but something was there. Maybe it was the door. No. The door was spotless just a normal dull brown color. It was not the nob either it was just a normal nob. He continued to scan it until his eyes landed to where the floor and the door do not meet.

Getting down on the ground, he looked under to see if there was anything there. Just as soon as he hit the ground, he saw a shadow dart across the room.

"John! Quickly kick the door down someone was in there!"

John pushed Sherlock aside and with mighty kick the knocked the door off its hinges causing it swing open before hitting the floor. Both men ran into the room and looked around trying to find the owner of the shadow.

"Sherlock! Look!" Shouted John as he caught the shadow of a person that darted down an open hallway.

"Quickly! We cannot let them escape!" ordered Sherlock. He and John ran down the hall following the shadow as it continued to vanish around every corner, each time getting farther and farther away. When they reached the end of the last hall there stood alone door which was metal, rusty and looked to have seen better days. Both men looked at each other before Sherlock opened the door. Wind rushed in showing them the outside world and a wrecked parking area.

"How?" John asked as Sherlock surveyed the area. "Where could they have gone? There is nothing to run to!"

Sherlock was silent as he looked around before quickly rushing back in and back to the room where they had started.

Which John behind him Sherlock began to run around the room tossing things aside and pushing them over looking for something.

"What are you doing Sherlock?" asked John as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"I'm looking for something John something that is out of place in a room full of filth and junk but what?!" John just looked at Sherlock before looking around the room before something glaring caught his eye.

"Sherlock"

"Where, where, where, where?"

"Sherlock."

"Anything, anything at all!"

"SHERLOCK!"

"What John!" screeched the consulting detective as he looked to his friend.

"That bottle was it there the first time we were in the room?"

"What?" he asked as he walked over to John standing next to him.

"That bottle there see in the window," pointed John as Sherlock walked over and picked it up examining the bottle.

The bottle itself was clear except for the purple liquid inside of it. It had a cork top on it that sealed it off from the world. The bottle also had a string wrapped around it and on that string, a note. Sherlock took the note and read it.

"Well what does it say?" asked John as he watched the man before him.

"Drink me… if you dare"

"Drink me? Sherlock we do not even know what that stuff is! For all we know it could be poison. Let's just take it back and see about getting it scanned then we can deal with properly."

Sherlock paid no mind to John as he scanned the bottle carefully looking it over while turning it around trying to see if he could find anything odd about it. When he could not find anything he shook the bottle causing it to make a rattling sound.

"What was that?"

"I don't know but I assure you that I will find out" with that he put the bottle into is coat and started back to the cab.

"Come John back to Baker Street! The game is on!"


	3. Chapter 3 Truth

I do not own BBC Sherlock or the Characters or the Alice reference. Thank you But i do own the story idea.

(spoils for those who have yet to see any Sherlock seasons or the third for that matter)

* * *

><p>It had been three days since Sherlock and John had found the bottle filled with the strange purple liquid.<p>

(****)

_Upon returning to Baker Street Sherlock immediately went to find a bowl, opened the bottle and poured the liquid into the causer which was followed by a small 'clunk' sound that signaled to them that whatever was in the bottle was now in the bowl. Using a pencil, Sherlock pulled the item out, revealing to them that the object was a ring. _

_The ring was small the size maybe being a 6 or 7 in woman's, it had a medium size jewel that was wrapped up in the silver that held it. The jewel was a bright blue, cut perfectly to give off an oval shape. After cleaning the ring, a closer inspection was given which bore no results; no writing on the band of the ring nor any indication to whom it could belong too._

_Frustrated and tired the men called it a night telling each other that they will figure it out tomorrow; not aware of how long it would really take._

(****)

John casually waked up to the green door that he knew very well and was about to open it when he looked at the doors knocker. The knocker was straight which could only mean one thing.

"Mycroft"

He tilted the knocker back to its original position before entering the building and hurried upstairs. John reached the top of the staircase to see the flat door wide open. The lack of sound coming from the room was unnerving, so he quickly walked inside and saw before him a rather strange sight.

The two men were sitting across from each other, gazes locked, both silent, both very still. Neither of them notices or cared that John had entered the room for it seemed that they were locked in some kind of telepathic battle.

Before he can even utter a word, Sherlock beats him to it.

"Three days, John"

"I'm sorry?" he questioned

"Three days. It has been three days and I have come up with nothing on this stupid ring!" now Sherlock was up and shouting as he tossed papers around the room looking them over like he may have missed something of importance on them.

John exhaled slowly. His attention then turned to Mycroft who was slowly spinning his umbrella around looking bored.

"So, what brings you here Mycroft?" he asked as the elder Holmes sighed

"The dark truth I'm afraid. And the enviable actions that will soon occur."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

The sound of boxes being turned over and paper being tossed on the floor pulled the two men's attention to the consulting detective acting like a five year-old throwing a fit.

"Are you quite finished?" asked Mycroft as he stared at his little brother like a mother to a son.

"No, no I am not!"

John let out a puff of air before asking his question again.

"What's going to occur? If you don't mind me asking"

"The return, my dear fellow."

"No."

"The return...? What do you mean?"

"No."

"What do you think I mean John, to return means to come back does it not?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

John nodded his head quickly before looking up at Sherlock for a brief moment.

"Well that is the case here, that Sherlock refuses to acknowledge" Commented Mycroft, as he looked to his brother who was now glaring at him.

"Are you done?"

"No, no, no, no, no, NO Mycroft and a thousand times NO!"

John watched the scene before him unsure of what the brothers were going on about.

"Sherlock, now listen to me," called Mycroft as he stood up to follow his little brother. "I realize that this is difficult. No doubt, it is up there with Red Beard. However, this not the time to act like a child. You know that ring very well; you just refuse to remember it."

John was curious. He could not explain it, but he felt now might be the best time to get some answers, if any.

"What do you mean he refuses to remember it? Wait, does this ring have something to do with Alice? Sherlock? Sherlock?"

Mycroft looked between the two men before deducing the situation.

"Ah, I see. Well brother mine, it appears you have some explaining to do."

"He doesn't need to know, Mycroft."

"Oh? Well, that ring. You know what you must do with it. Why not take John with you. It will give you the chance to unveil the mystery that is before him."

With that, Mycroft walked back to the chair he sat in, grabbed his umbrella and made his exit with a nod to John.

"OK, Sherlock. I know that is obviously personal for you and I understand that." John watched as his friend pulled his hair in frustration before letting out an agitated growl. "But you should know that I am here for you. Now, please, can you cut the act and just tell me what's going on?"

Sherlock sighed and stared at the ground before looking at John and then looking out the window.

"It's raining now," he muttered to no one but himself.

"Yes, but that doesn't answer my question Sherlock."

Sherlock stood tall and waltz back into his room. After a few moments, he walked back out dress with his coat on him. Picking up his scarf, he wrapped it around his neck and stopped at the door.

"Are you coming?" he asked looking back slightly at John.

"Of course, but where on earth are we going? It's storming outside." John looked to his friend with a questioning glance.

"We are going to a place of peace and sanctuary, so bring an umbrella"

(*****)

The drive was long and full of silence; neither man said anything. The heavy raindrops hitting the car provided the only sound.

Once the cab stopped, John looked past Sherlock to see an iron gate with an old building bearing a statue on the top.

"A church? What are we doing here Sherlock? I thought you said religion was useless." Said John looking at his friend

"Of course, John. Glad you remembered that. To answer your question as to why we are here, you will soon find out."

The two men got out of the cab quickly, making a mad dash for the entrance of the church. Once at the top of the steps Sherlock pushed open the door and made his way to the back of the church.

John stopped to shake off any rain on his coat before taking a few steps into the church while looking around.

"Sherlock what are you doing? What's here that is so important?" he asked while catching up to the tall man.

"Many things." he paused "Two things."

"Two things?" asked John

Sherlock did not reply as the door before them opened and the reverend looked to them both.

"Hello gentlemen" he said nodding to them both slightly "My name is reverend Jacob. Have you both come seeking gods light and guidance?"

"Ah well you see we are here-"

"No father I'm afraid not in fact we are here for two things. One of them being this."

Sherlock pulled out the ring, holding it up for the man to see. The reverend gazed at the ring before asking for it. After a closer inspection of the ring, the reverend let out a shocked gasp as he continued to study the ring before looking back up at Sherlock. They held each other stares for some time before either of them spoke.

"Well my boy," said the reverend "It has been some time since I last held this ring. Please hold on to this while I go get what you need. Feel free to wander as much as you like." With that, the reverend shut his door and walked past the men into another room across the way.

John was shocked and bewildered at the scene that transpired before him. Did the reverend know Sherlock? If so, how well and for how long? John had many questions running through his mind. Being lost in his thoughts, he lost track of his friend who was no longer at his side.

"Sherlock?" asked John as he looked around "Sherlock?"

John looked around the area he was in and did not see him. He ventured back into the entrance area where he saw that the flower shop connected to the church was now open.

"Excuse me."

The clerk behind the desk looked up at him quirking one of his eyebrows at him as if to say 'what.'

"You wouldn't have happened to see a man come through here would you? Tall, dark curly hair, could tell whether you had sex this morning just by looking at you."

At first, the clerk seemed shocked but then slowly realization came to them.

"Oh yeah! Mr. Holmes, yeah, he was just here. Bought some of our more expensive lilies over there." The clerk pointed to a pot that was lacking several flowers from it.

"Bought them? What for? I mean what reason could he have for buying flowers?" John paused as the dark thought finally hit him like a bat to the face. The clerk just gave him a knowing look before directing him outside.

"Make a left, third row, the one with the angle next to it. You can't miss it."

John nodded his head and was about to make his way out the door but turned around asking the clerk how much the rest of the lilies were.

John slowly made his way to the third row of the cemetery where he saw a familiar head of dark curls. When he reached his friend, John stopped and stood next to Sherlock. He then read the headstone.

Scarlet A. Holmes

Born: February 14 1981- Died: June 23 2010

"A Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend"

"Alice is now in wonderland"

John let out a sad chuckle and looked to his friend who had the look of death on him as he looked at the tombstone with a thousand-yard stare.

"Alice."

Sherlock pulled his gaze away from the stone to look at the short man with a questioning gaze.

"Alice that is her middle name isn't it? That is why she used it because she knew that you would know it was her every time. Right?"

Sherlock looked to the stone before speaking.

"No her middle name was actually Annabelle. Scarlet Annabelle Holmes. She used Alice because she liked the story. It was her most beloved fairy tale; she would have our father read it to her almost every night. She never got bored of it. But you were right on the second part."

John smiled but it was brief as he stared at the marbled stone it was clear that no expense was spared in making sure that everything was the best here. Although something was nagging at him and he knew that he had to ask.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a sister? "

"It wasn't relevant at the time, she is gone and there is nothing that can change that I'm afraid."

John sighed before asking another question.

"Were you two close?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment as he debated whether or not to answer.

"Yes," he paused. "We were close. She was there when I needed her most, and I for her."

John felt horrible. He could only imagine the pain that his friend felt. John had a sister as well, and though they did not see eye to eye he still could not imagine the idea of her dying.

The wind slowly blew as the dark grey clouds passed by. The rain stopped shortly after they entered the church. The ground was moist and soggy as it sunk down below their feet.

"You would have liked her, John," stated Sherlock as he tried to keep his composure. "You and Mary would have both liked her. She wasn't anything like me or my brother. She…" he paused thinking of the proper thing to say. "She was special. More than anyone could ever say."

John stared at his friend. It was obvious that this was killing him.

"I'm sure we would have, Sherlock."

John gave his friend a quick pat on the back and a shoulder squeeze before turning and placing the lilies, he bought next to Sherlock's.

"If you would pardon me, John, I'm going to go see if our reverend friend has what we came for," Sherlock said, as he turned around to make his way back to the church.

"Of course. Just give me a moment and I'll be right behind you," John replied as he watched his friend walk away.

John looked back at the grave; getting down on one knee, he read the name again.

"Scarlet Annabelle Holmes, a lovely name for who I am sure was a lovely girl. It's just a shame we couldn't meet, but I promise I will keep an eye on Sherlock for you. No need to worry."

He stared at it for the longest time thinking he would get an answer. He was sure that any people passing by might think him crazy, but John did not care. This was important; if not to him, then to Sherlock.

John stood up dusting his pants off when he heard a twig snap in the distance. He looked and swore he saw someone peeking from behind a tree.

"Hello, who is over there?"

When he did not get a reply he walked over to the tree. John looked around and he found a note on the ground. He picked it up, unfolded it, and read the text.

'King of hearts, Look up'

John quickly looked up, but saw nothing.

"What in the hell?" John's words were cut short as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Crying out he stumbled forward pulling out what was in him. With blurry vision, he could barely make out the syringe that was in his hands. As his vision further failed him, he only caught a glimpse of his attacker before his world went black.

(****)

Sherlock entered the church to find the reverend waiting for him.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes. I have that which you asked for." the reverend pulled out a small box with a notch in front of it.

Sherlock muttered a thank you and took the ring. He placed it in the notch, and turned it to the left. The lid flew open. Sherlock looked inside and saw several manner of things: a picture, faded notes, small trinkets. But what stood out was something recent. A white slip of paper much more new than everything else in the box. Sherlock took the slip and unfolded it.

'I have the King of Hearts.

Come to the old greenhouse if you want him'


End file.
